Songs in the Waste
by Top Magician Fran
Summary: 100 years after the neclear apocalypse life finds a way. The story of a rag tag group of wastelanders starting a radio station, while dodging bullets, fighting mutants, and finding love. Bad at summaries, AU Glee/Fallout series. Rating  T-M
1. Prologue: What a Wasteland

**Author Note: _This fic is a weird combination of my idleness, a half thought out plot, and sicking amounts of free time at my new job. We'll see what come from it, maybe writing this one chapter will get it out of my system. Who knows haha._**

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><p><em>April 2052, that's when the war started, a lack of petroleum sparks the world's nations into conflict. China invades Alaska in the winter of 2066, The US fights back, using Canada's resources depleteling their economy. February 2076 the US annexs Canada and eleven months later reclaims Alaska, it seemed like the war would finally be over, people began to hope that peace would soon follow.<em>

_October 23, 2077 the day the world ended. A global nuclear strike occurs, history has forgotten who fired the first missle, but with-in two hours most, if not all, major cities have been destroyed. Effectively ending the Resource War, and human civilization. The world falls apart, people flee underground to escape the radiation, animals and plants die or mutate, hell begins._

_100 Years Later_

Life isn't easy for anyone out in wasteland, the Ohio wasteland is no different. Whoever thought Columbus was worthy of nuclear strike? Cincinatti hadn't faired much better, along with a handful of seemly random towns that got atomized over a century ago. No life wasn't easy anywhere, but there was still life.

Kurt Hummel groaned, weary from working all night on the water filtration system. He caught sight of himself in a dingy puddle that formed around his boots, it was not one of his better looks. Sweat and grime plastered his hair to his face, in the most unflattering way possible, his normally vivid blue eyes were dull, rimmed with red aggitation that came from pulling long hours, worst of all his skin was covered in 'god knows what', which he knew was not going to be good for his complexion.

"Of all the days for this rust bucket of a town to spring a leak..." Kurt grumbled, wipeing from dirt from his cheek with his equally dirty sleave. "Same day Dad has to go out scouting with Finn... no it's fine... a seventeen year old can easily keep a city from dehydrating." Kurt snarked to himself, giving the wrench he was using one final tug to tighten the last bolt. Wasting no time he jogged over to the pump system and pressed a few buttons with faded labels, crossing his fingers as he hoped.

Silence, then a great roar from the machines around him, followed by the gushing sound of water filling the pipes surronding the dark matience tunnels. Kurt slumped down on the filthy ground and let out a ragged sigh of relief, "Thank Atom..." He indulged in a quiet moment to himself, just listening to the now, albeit temporarily, working water system. Standing, somehow finding his tired feet under him, Kurt walked down the long creeky path ways that ran under the settlement before getting to the service entrance he used to get in.

Fresh air, well toxic radioactive air, filled his lungs as he was greeted by the newly rising sun. The sleepy settlement of McKinley laid bare before him in the first wee hours of the day. The town was nothing more than a collective of barely held together scrap metal huts and dilapidated houses, surrounded by a 25 foot wall of metal that was savanged from cars, fallen planes, you name it. Everthing, from the ironic welcome sign by the gates to the always lacking general suply store, was covered in a fine layer of dust, even the town cat was dusty.

Kurt took it all in, wishing he could name one thing about the place he liked. It was small, dark, and dirty, lacking in any charm concieved by man. Still it was home, there aren't many safe places in the wasteland so you can't be picky. He had read books, pre-war books, that told of large sprawling cities, flashing lights, and dreams of tomorrow. That's where his heart was, he could feel it, in those shining cities of the past.

Kurt took a deep breath and scanned the town once more before heading home, "Dreams are for sleeping... which sounds good right about now." He smiled to himself. Well needed rest was soon to come, right after a shower...or three.

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><p>Rachel Berry was a star, someone meant to be adored by millions, or so she thought. Being the only daughter of two loving fathers, or commited friends as society viewed them, gave her a skewed view of life. So while she sang on the lonely and bare stage of McKinley's only tavern, she pictured in her head she was in a recital hall filled with cheering crowds instead of the few drunks slouched on the bar.<p>

She was singing with every once of her soul, trying to find the beauty in herself despite the bleek setting of her life. She was singing for every person who could hear her, trying to save what little humanity was left in the wastelanders. She was singing because what else can you do to remain sane in a world filled with death.

Rachel Berry IS a star damnit, and one day people are going to know it.

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><p>Hunting for mole rats, and running from Raiders. Finn Hudson peered over the formation of rocks he was crouched behind, watching for any sign of movement. He was out scouting for supplies with Burt once again, and it was going as smoothly as ever. So very badly.<p>

A shot rang out through the still air and a bit of rock an inch away from Finn's head shattered. He ducked again and let out a shaky breath. Being pinned down by a nasty group of Raiders was seriously a lame way to start the day. He adjusted his rifle and popped his head back up over the rock feature and took aim.

"I'm going to kill Puck for switching shifts..." he squeezed the trigger and watched as the distant figure fell to the ground, "If we make it back that is..."

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><p>Mercede just finished sweeping up her family's clinic when she heard the singing. "Damn white girl always showing off." She grumbled and looked out the broken window at the tavern next door. Rachel Berry was seranading the degenerates in the drowsey hours of the morning, like she was every waking minute of the day.<p>

"Can't a girl get any peace... you'd think a nuclear apocolypes would keep things quiet." The brassy girl huffed as she set her broom in a corner. If she was being honest with herself she'd realize she was jealous. She'd love nothing more than to be up on stage, booting Berry off of course, and belt out some of her favorite songs.

Today is not an honest day though, today is a working day, like every day before. "Don't get you're head in the clouds..." People need caring for in the Wasteland, and that's what he family did, who had time for singing anyway?

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><p>Artie was up before the crack of dawn, being handicapable in the dog eat dog world of the wasteland meant you had to prove you were useful. He floated about the sleepy town of McKinley in a chair he fashioned from an out of commission , it afforded him the most mobility he could manage. He was deputy of McKinley, a bit young and clearly not the most expected candidate, a job he held with pride.<p>

"Watch out criminals! You can run but you can't hide!" He slapped the side of his chair and sped forward down the makeshift street. There was no real crime to be stopped but the town seemed to inspire a need for a dramatic flair. Dumpsters and empty alley ways turned into Super Mutants and Slaver Camp Sights. A bullet shot from one of the many appendages of the robot that carried him, scareing away a stray dog, causing it to yip and yelp as it ran.

"Woah... maybe taking that much Jet wasn't a good idea..." He laughed and shook his head to clear the pounding in his mind, "Sorry..." he called out the retreating animal before returning to his 'patrol'. Yeah, McKinley was just full of excitment.

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><p>Tina cursed as she heard a gun shot close to her window, "Damn it Artie..." she mumbled, still half asleep. The shop wasn't open for at least another three hours and she'd be damned if she was getting up before then.<p>

"Who thought giving him a gun was a good idea..." She yawned and settled back into a cozy slumber. She'd give him a piece of her mind later, putting on a bright and smiling face to the few customers the general store had was tough enough on a full nights sleep.

"Zzzzz welcome to CC-Supplies...how can I help you..." She snored and was lost to the world.

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><p>Will Schuster sat by his window and watched the sun rise. The faint static of the radio on the table beside him was the only sound filling the room; save for the tapping of his pencil. He looked out at town, his home, and sighed heavily. Decreped, falling apart, dieing. He pictured McKinley when he was a boy, still ugly at the best of times, but at least then it was filled with hope.<p>

Time pasted however, Raiders attacked more frequently, the N.O.R. took control of the area to the north and fewer trader visited the settlement. The town was just dieing.

He looked past the wall that surrounded the settlement and out onto the horrizon of the Ohio Wasteland. Scattered power lines, broken cars, endless roads to nowhere. He stared, for what felt like eternity, he stared and stared, searching for answers in the nothingness.

His hand moved to the radio, ready to turn it off, then stopped. "Oh..." it was so simple...

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><p>It was so simple, "UP AND ATOM LADIES!" a loud commanding voice called out over a crackling P.A. System.<p>

The simple elegance of perfectly formed rows of loyal well trained soldiers lining up for morning training. Sue Slyvester commanded the largest, most efficient, and well armed mercenary forces in the area. It was her job to keep order, and she did it well. Sometimes the work was thankless, but then she would just forget to patrol a ceretain area, maybe let a few Raiders slip her notice to less generous settlements. They'd be begging for her help in no time.

Her main head quarters was a mile away from McKinley, and she served as the main protector of the city in exchange for supplies and monitary tribute. She liked the town the way it was, quiet and docile. Quiet settlements were the easiest to keep in control.

"Getting sloppy, fifty more laps!" She yelled into her megaphone, sending her troops around the long abandoned high school they used as a base. She sat back and watched her monkeys dance for her, being in control was so good.

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><p>Blaine Anderson lived his whole life in a bubble. Well it wasn't so much a bubble as it was a vault. A deep underground refuge for the wealthy and lucky. Hundreds of Vaults lay hidden under the wasteland, pre-war fallout shelters that housed dozens or hundreds of people. For decades the residents lived safely from the harsh reality of the wastes.<p>

He was greatful, really he was, for being given the chance to safely grow up, always having clean water and food to eat. He knew that thousands of unlucky souls fought everyday for what came so easily to him. Others didn't have the luxery of a full length mirror, or hair care products, or even running water.

So why, as he looked over his reflection, did he feel so restless. His hair neatly styled and gelled back, his blazer and tie tight, fitted. He was getting ready to sing in the lounge area of the Vault, like he did everyday. At seventeen Blaine was the #1 crooner of Vault 237, a profession not easily accepted by his father, but he was happy to be able to do what he loved.

"Why do I feel like I'm suffocating?" He sighed, adjusting his already perfect tie for the sixth time.

"Because you make that tie tigher every five seconds..." A taller boy, Wes, said entering the room. "Come on Anderson... no time to waste. Your public awaits."

Blaine turned and smiled at his friend, and unoffical manager, "They can wait a while longer then. You can't rush art." he gave him a playful wink before going over his appearance one last time in the mirror.

"David and the others are stalling but the Vault knows what it wants." Wes chided, "Day dreaming is for people without obligations." he tapped his watch in an exaggerated way to boast the effect of his message.

"Yes mother... wouldn't want a bunch of engeneers angry at me... " Blaine strolled past him, confident. "They might shut off my water...or fill my room with toxic gas"

"You joke now, but just wait for the day they really do it. How would you do your hair...or breath?" Wes followed in stride.

"My dear Wesley, I long for the day something happens here." Blaine let his eyes wander the too familiar hallways of Vault 237. Drab, lifeless, and frankly boring, maybe he was a fool, maybe this is where his happiness is meant to be found.

Stepping out from behind the curtains of the lounge, standing in front of 'The Warblers', his back up band, Blaine did feel happy. He got to sing for a living, he was allowed to be safe in the vault, he was indebted to the faceless gods of luck which gave him this ideal life among a dead world.

Maybe that's was the problem. Blaine wanted to make something for himself, something that was his, something that proved he was worth more than 10 cap winks and a million dollar voice.

He grabbed the microphone before him, staring at the crowd smiling, eagerly waiting for him to start. Something clicked, something small but still profound

in his mind. Blaine looked out and saw past the people, past the steel walls of the vault, past everything he knew about the world. He decided, tomorrow he would leave the vault.

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><p><strong>Author Note: <em>Prologue finished. Really I just used it as a place to dump character descriptions and some useless back story. I have no idea how this will be recieved, not even sure how I feel about it. We'll see what happens. Also please note that I am usually typing these at 3 a.m. at the motel where I work, and I have no beta (hint) so errors WILL occur... I am deeply shamed by them haha. <em>**

**_Anyway please comment. Comments = Chapters lol_**


	2. Chaper 1: Pole Vaulting

**Author Note: **_**Yet another dull evening has produced a new chapter. Joy~ This is officially Chapter 1 so now for the real meet of the story shall begin. This is a more go with the flow kind of story, so many little plots and ficlets are running around my mind. This almost feels like a crack fic to me, if it weren't for the fact that I want it to be serious, in a glee way that is. I'll stop rambling and using you as a diary. This isn't a time for gushing it's a time for escaping a vault!**_

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><p>"You're insane... absolutely insane." Wes' strained, overly tired voice came from somewhere across the room. He watched as his best friend rummaged through his room, folding clothes, filing sheet music, making lists. Normally this would be a situation worthy of praise by Wes, always a champion of order and the such. But this was different.<p>

Blaine was going through his possessions, sorting out the 'absolutly useless too survival' junk he wouldn't need outside the vault. "I know, you've told me at least 37 times since I told you I was doing this." he stashed a few medical supplies 'borrowed' from the infirmary into a small bag. "And that was only an hour ago, most of which you spent speechlessly following me."

Blaine had a twinkle in his eye, a look that Wes had come to fear. "Blaine...you are always having mad ideas; reprogramming the to sing all of it's responses, trying to start a vault wide dance class, then after that failed trying to start a vault wide FIGHT club." Blaine shot him a look that said 'Don't talk about it' to which Wes just blanched. "All I'm saying is that of all your crazy plans... and adventures... or mishaps." He closed the gap between them slightly and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This isn't just crazy... it's suicide."

It was, Blaine knew no one should ever chose the wasteland over the safety of the Vault. Over the family and friends he had developed over his life time. Thinking about how his mom would take the news hurt, Cooper would think he was crazy but he might understand. His father... well his father was a different story all together. Being the son of the Overseer of the Vault has many advantages, but just as many draw backs. Scrutiny over his every life choice was one of them.

"Wes... I don't know what to say, this is just something I have to do." He smiled weakly, placing his hand on Wes'. He could see him trying to think of another tactic to persuade him, he'd expect nothing less from his best friend. There was a reason Blaine picked him as a manager, Wes was sharp and rational but not unkind. He knew telling him would mean this conversation, he knew that Wes would appeal to everyone of his last remaining bits of reason to try and stop him. Blaine was thankful for it, if only because it made sure he was certain in his own convictions.

"Have you even thought about what you're going to do out there? You're a musician Blaine, you have a fair amount of talent as a writer, and a surprisingly good knack for dodging bullets, though I wouldn't count on the last one to save your life." Wes frowned when Blaine chuckled, "I'm serious, besides the radiation and general lack of anything life sustaining, nearly every creature out there is some kind of monster. And that's including the humans." He pushed Blaine to sit on his bed and looked him in the eyes, "Let's assume you are able to find a place to live, in some dirty settlement, lets assume you don't get eaten by animals or cannibals, or get strung up like some macabre ornament out a horror film. Assuming all these VERY unlikely things, what are you going to do?"

"I'll think of something, someone, somewhere is bound to need music." Blaine said hopefully, true to his nature Wes had found the one nagging thought that made him really pause. He had been given basic survival training over his life, he knew how to handle a gun, kinda, and he had a general idea of what direction to travel. What Blaine didn't have was a way to make money. He doubted being a wandering minstrel payed very much, nor did he delude himself into thinking there was a wide market for club entertainers. "Everyone loves music..."

"Yes... maybe some gang will hire you to compose some tribal war song before they raid a town and slaughter everyone in it?" Wes rolled his eyes, "Be serious!"

"I am!" Blaine got off the bed and started to pace, looking around the room he felt himself get more agitated by the second. "Wes... this Vault...is...its" He gestured wildly around trying to form into words his feelings. "It's wrong!"

"Blaine this Vault is everything! Your whole life is here, you have a future here. Out there you are nothing but a steak in a bowtie." Wes' anger now starting to surface as well. He didn't expect this debate to go on this long, but just as quickly as it flared it faded into exhaustion. "Now stop packing and... I don't know, get your head analysed." He slumped into a chair and stared at Blaine, who also seemed to be regaining control over himself.

"Wes... that's the point." Blaine's eyes met Wes', "This Vault is... well a vault. A prison, a box, a tome, I don't have a future here." He looked around the grey walls of his room, "If I stay here, I'll die here. I'll get up everyday and put on the same suit and sing the same sounds for the same people day after day after day." He found Wes' eyes again, "I'm just a holotape in a bowtie here, and at least out there I have a chance to do something with my life."

Blaine knew he was winning now, Wes' eyes got softer, using the momentum he had, he pushed on "This place is wrong Wes... it's stuck in rules, regulations, codes from a society that nuked itself into near extinction. It expects me to stay underground, scared and cut off from the world." He knelt down and tried to make him understand, "I don't want to be stuck... I want to move on."

For a while the room was quiet, calm almost. Blaine fought the urge to try and crack a joke, they never played out well. Blaine was a tense situation savant, his family gave him plenty of practice, and by all means this was going much smoother than many of the family dinners he sat through in his life. No, Wes needed time to think, to process and accept, so Blaine stayed quiet.

"You'll die... you'll get killed by something horrible." Wes shook his head, "I should tell your father..." Both boys knew he would never do that, above all else they trusted each other. In many ways Wes was more of a brother to Blaine than Cooper, betrayal wasn't a word that existed for them. No, telling Blaine's father was never a strategy Wes planned to use, it was a desperate move.

"I'd rather be torn apart by giant ants or eaten by wild dogs than have you do that." Blaine's smile didn't reach his eyes, what little mirth he was holding on to slipped away. "I know you don't understand yet... but I just know, I do Wes, I know, that there is way more to living than being comfortable and safe. I'm not asking you to understand... all I want is for my friend to support me."

More silence, less tense, which was a blessing. "I won't support you going off die alone..." Wes looked up and smiled, ever so slightly, "So I'm coming with you."

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><p>Kurt grumbled as unkind sunlight peeked through the rusted shutters of his room. He blinked away the blurriness of his vision, his eyes adjusting as he looked around his room. Rough metal walls somehow held together like a patchwork quilt, rusted and weather in many areas. The many posters covering the walls did little to cover the imperfections, though they were colorful. Each one showed a different skyline of the once great cities in the US, 'Come to New York!', 'Visit L.A.', 'Find Yourself in Chicago', he would often dream of living in those bright places.<p>

"Too bright..." he rubbed his eyes and squinted, he knew his face showed every hour he had worked last night. Darken bags under his eyes, bloodshot eyes, pale skin; though the last one was a natural trait. He guessed he had been asleep for only four hours, by the way the sun was streaming through to his room, but that already was more than he usually got.

"Too much to do... I wish Dad would get back." He slipped out of bed and put on a 'fresh' work jump suit, stretching his aching limbs as he walked into the main living area of his house. Sparcely decorated, like most homes in the wasteland, a simple table with two sets of plates placed out, a stove in the corner next to an old refrigerator, a few nearly empty shelves with canned goods.

"Good morning Kurt." Carole's friendly voice greeted him from the stove where she was cooking. "I figured you'd hungry so I waited, I decided on a late breakfast would be nice today." She brought over a hot pan of still sizzling mystery meat and placed some on the plate nearest him. "I thought I'd use up the last of our Cram today... I know you said you are watching your weight but you need something more substantial if you are going to be taking over your father's work load while he's out on patrol."

Kurt threw up his hands in defeat with a tried smile, his lack of sleep making him docile for a change. "Far be it from me to question a cook in her kitchen. Just don't tell my dad or he'll expect some when he gets back. We have to watch his sodium...Dr. Jones orders." He picked at the grey flacky, supposedly, pork on his plate. He'd prefer a lighter meal of fruit, when it was fresh, or just some coffee if he didn't have time to sit and eat. Food had been harder to come by these days though, McKinkley had fallen on hard times over the last decade so he was becoming accustome to being a bit more forgiving with his diet.

"Well I'm sure the boys will find something out there for us." Carole smiled softly and joined him at the table, he noticed how much smaller her portion ws than his so he decided the only polite thing to do was to eat what he was given and to be thankful.

"I'll just be happy if they get back with all their limbs attached." Kurt sighed and finished his meal, "Thanks for breakfast Carole, I need to look at the town gate today so I don't think I'll be back until after dinner so please don't wait up for me."

"I'll find something to put in the icebox for you, and if you can spare a moment please try to get lunch." She sounded concerned so Kurt nodded to appease her. "Good, now remember if you happen to be on the outside of the gate to take your pistol."

"Yes mom." Kurt said teasingly, happy with how happy Carole looked when he called her that. "Now if you'll excuse my rudeness for leaving before clean up...I need to make sure our town is somewhat fortified." He waved and was out the door, walking down the metal steps that led up to their home, and on to the dirt roads of McKinley. The town was much more active than it was this morning before he went to bed.

He could spot Tina out by the outdoor canteen that was attached to her family's store. She was surprisingly busy with three customers at the stools by the counter. Just past her he saw Artie floating down a side street looking more alert than he needed, Kurt guessed it was the Jet in his viens. In the distance he could hear Rachel singing in the bar, he closed his eyes and listened for a bit, trying to make out the words she was singing. Despite all her...quarks, she was above all else a beautiful singer.

"You day dreaming or has the radiation finally got to your head?" Mercedes called out from the pourch of the clinic, a bright smile on her face. Kurt shook his head and laughed, waving back.

"Just tired, you know how it is, nothing works right in this place for more than a day." He shrugged and sauntered over to her, "But I'd rather fix walls than stare at them so..." he gestured vaguely around him, not fining the words to continue.

"You don't have to tell me, everyday some fool comes in here after doing something stupid out in the waste." She put her hands at her now jutted hip, "Supplies are low enough as it is... we don't need people wasting them on dumb mistakes."

Kurt nodded, more to himself than to her, "I'd love to stay and have some lady time with you but I really do need to get to work. I think I'll be able to automate the gates so we won't need to have someone stand guard on the outside. Safer that way... if I can get it to recognise our faces... and stop it from locking us out." He sighed dramatically, making Mercedes laugh.

"Well if anyone can it's gonna be you. Now get outta here... but don't work to hard. I DON'T want to see you in here for exhaustion." She gave him a leveling stare, thought the grin she had plastered on her face defused the threat.

"I'll take it into consideration." He nodded and walked towards the entrance of McKinley, the protective walls got higher, thicker, as he neared the gate. A crude system of wenches and chains acted as the opening mechanism for the gate, something Kurt soon wanted to change. He set his work kit by a recently installed computer terminal that had been salvaged in the last supply patrol. He was confident he could use it to set up a new automated locking system, if he could get the damn thing working.

"Alright terminal... time to make you my bitch." He whipped out a spanner and dived into his work.

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><p>"I thought I was suppose to be the crazy one..." Blaine commented in a hushed tone. He and Wes were now outside his father's office trying to hack the door so they could get in. This had happened after a rather lengthy debate as to why Wes would be going with Blaine, and try as he might Blaine couldn't deny he'd prefer his friend's company to wandering the wastes alone.<p>

"You are... which is why I have to be the sensible one and remind you that getting out of the vault requires more than just a pair of legs and a hard head." Wes toyed with some wires from the door console and attached them to his Pip Boy 3000 which he wore on his left wrist. He was cycling through the various possible passwords as Blaine kept watch for any security patrols.

"I knew I'd have to get in here to open the gate... I just thought...you know... it'd be easier." He smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

"It would have been easier if you didn't always break in here. Your father has upgraded this door so many times... I can't even count how many layers of firewalls I need to get through." Wes grumbled, but there was more amusment in his voice than frustration so Blaine didn't take it to heart.

"You make me sound like some sort of hooligan. I'm just a free spirit." He flashed a smile then ducked as Wes swatted at him with his free hand.

"First... who says Hooligan besides Old Lady Kimble? Second be quiet...I almost have it." Wes scolded as his eyes focused on his wrist.

Blaine nodded, "Good...because I hear foot steps." He looked down the hallway and heard the distinct tip tap of vault issued police boots, security was early on their patrol this morning it seemed.

"Stall them?" Wes asked hopfully, trying to will the door open faster with little success.

"No time... they'll be here before I can stop them." Blaine said, trying to hide the anxiety from his voice. He could see long stretched out shadows on the floor as they got closer to the junction. "Wes...we need that door now..."

"Shut up...saying that won't..." the hissing sound of the door sliding open cut Wes off, "or maybe it will...get in get in!" He unhooked his Pip Boy and scurried inside, closely followed by Blaine. The door shut behind them and Wes locked it from the inside, just in case. "Heart attack...I'm having... maybe..." He panted trying to regain his breath. Blaine nodded to his left, apparently doing the same.

"Good...work. Really, perfect timing." Blaine gave a breathy laugh, his heart beat steadily slowing to a more normal pace. "Now... I'll get some supplies from the storage room in the back... you get the gate open." Blaine stood up shakily and slowly made his way across his father's office. "Oh...and I know you know this... but we need to do it with out setting off alarms."

Wes stared at him pointedly, his eyes saying 'Thanks, no duh.' while he gathered himself from the ground and went over to the overseer's terminal and started working to find a way to disarm the alarm system as well as the vault seal, no small task. He sorted through corrupted files, dead ends and false programs, growing more frustrated by the minutes.

"It keeps shutting me out..." He rubbed his face to try and calm his nerves. He wasn't thinking clearly and he knew he had to get his act together quickly, no telling when Blaine's father would decide to come in. He took a few deep breaths and went back to his job.

Blaine in the meantime picked the lock to the reserve storage area hidden behind a bookshelf. Inside was were the surplus of medicine and a few weapons were held. He'd only take what they'd need, not wanting to rob the vault of it's back up supplies. A few stimpaks, a few Radaways, and a pistol or two later he was satisfied with what he collected.

He returned to the office to find Wes still fussing with his Pip Boy, knowing that being silent was the most useful thing he would be able to do he chose to look around the tidy room. Blaine's father had a very neat office, no clutter to be found, all the files were organized, and most importantly... no personal pictures. To say Blaine's dad was a little stoic would be like saying a Deathclaw is a little blood-thirsty. Not a single photo of his family was anywhere to be seen on his desk or walls.

It shouldn't hurt, but somewhere deep down it did. Blaine sighed, he had worked so hard his whole life to try and be a responsible son, "He's going to hate me for leaving..." he whispered to himself. Now that they were so close to getting out, the regret he had tried to ignore was starting to surface, he could imagine the anger in his father's eyes, the worry in his mothers and the confusion of his brother.

Blaine's wallowing was cut short when Wes gasped, "Huh what's wrong?" Blaine turned to see his friend stand up quickly, looking paniced.

"Well I got the Vault open... but..." A loud shirll noise filled the whole Vault, red lights flashed and Blaine understood. "I think... running is our best course of action." He grabbed his bag from the ground and sprinted out the emergency exit door that connected to the Vault entrace room, followed by a startled but coping Blaine. Banging on the Overseer's office was heard, and both would swear they heard Blaine's fater shouting orders from outside, but they had no time to think or dwell. They just ran, ran as fast as they could, the sound of their footfalls echoing in the corridor.

They were close, they could see the Vault's seal sliding open before them, letting daylight enter the complex for the first time in over 100 years. Shouting got louder as guards now were hot on their tails. If they could get a safe distance out into the Wasteland they would be able to escape.

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><p>William Schuster walked brickly towards Mayor Figgens' office at the center of the settlement. He was nervous, not because Figgens was scary, he was the opposite really, no Will was nervous because Figgens didn't like drawing attention to McKinley. He was elected as a move by the citizens to be more conservative with resources, this in turn however also meant a conservative attitude when it came to expanding the town.<p>

Getting into the office was simple, as head of communication at McKinley, he had access to the Mayor almost 24/7. Not that his title meant much these days, he was reduced to recieveing garbled radio messages from outposts and settlements too far to properly pickup. He couldn't even reply if they did get a message, the equipment failing in recent years do to neglect. Something he hoped to change very soon.

"Ah William, so good of you to visit. Have a seat." the dark skinned man smiled warmly and motioned from behind his desk for Will to sit. With a polite nod he did, trying to sit straight and look serious, while not giving off hostile vibes.

"Thank you Mayor... I need to talk to you." He began simply, knowing directness was the best way to handle the situation.

"Of course, I assume it's about updating our transmitting equip, and I told you we simply do not have the supplies to cmoply with such a request." Figgen's stated firmly, a well practiced rejection that Will had heard many times.

"Well it's not about that really... it's different." Will shifted a bit, "We both know that McKinley is strapped for caps, we're a dieing town in the middle of nowhere." He leaned forward and looked the mayor in the eyes, "I think I've thought of a way to save our settlement... something to put us back on the map."

He hadn't been interupted yet, in fact Figgens looked mildly interested, so he continued, "I think we should reopen the radio station..."

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><p><strong>Author Note: <strong>_**Chapter one is finished! Yay! Want to find out what happens next? Review and show your support! (Also sidenote... looking for a beta to help out with editing)**_


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